he bunk beneath him, and
Robert soon heard him snoring. He also heard new sounds from above, a
whistle and a shriek and a roar combined that he did not recognize at
first, but which a little thought told him to be a growing wind and
the crash of the waves. The schooner began to dip and rise
violently. He was dizzy for a little while, but he soon recovered. A
storm! The knowledge gave him pleasure. He did not know why, but he
felt that it, too, contributed hope and a chance.

The roar of the storm increased, but Miguel, who had probably spent
nearly all his life at sea, continued to sleep soundly. Robert was
never in his life more thoroughly awake.

He sat up in his bunk, and now and then he heard the sound of voices
and of footsteps overhead, but soon they were lost entirely in the
incessant shrieking of the wind and the continuous thunder of the
great waves against the side of the schooner. In truth, it was a
storm, one of great fury. He knew that the ship although stripped to
the utmost, must be driving fast, but in what direction he had no
idea. He would have given much to know.

The tumult grew and by and by he heard orders shouted through a
trumpet. He could stand it no longer, and, leaping down, he seized the
Portuguese by the shoulder and shook him.

"Up, Miguel," he cried. "A great storm is upon us!"

The cook opened his eyes sleepily, and then sprang up, a look of alarm
on his face. While the eyes of the Portuguese were filled with fear,
he also seemed to be in a daze. It was apparent to Robert that he was
a heavy sleeper, and his long black hair falling about his forehead he
stared wildly. His aspect made an appeal to Robert's sense of humor,
even in those tense moments.

"My judgment tells me, Miguel," he shouted--he was compelled to raise
his voice to a high pitch owing to the tremendous clatter
overhead--"that there is a great storm, and the schooner is in danger!
And you know, too, that your old comrade, Peter Smith, who has sailed
the seas with you so long, is likely to be right in his opinions!"

The gaze of Miguel became less wild, but he looked at Robert with awe
and then with superstition.

"You have brought us bad luck," he exclaimed. "An evil day for us
when you came aboard."

Robert laughed. A fanciful humor seized him.

"But this is my place," he said. "I, Peter Smith, belong on board this
schooner and you know, Miguel, that you and the captain insisted on my
coming back."

"We go o